


you lift my heart up

by tosca1390



Category: Dare Island Series - Virginia Kantra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was going to do it right,” Matt says in the balmy darkness, his arm secure around her waist. </p>
<p>Looking away from the grassy knolls of the yard, the sheen of the ocean in the fall moonlight, Allison peers up at him. The front steps are solid beneath her, and he is solid next to her, and she can imagine it, the firm assurance of his touch and his love, night after night. The breeze cools her reddened cheeks; she can hear Josh and Taylor inside, laughing at something on the television. Stars blink down at her, at them both; her heart feels entirely too full and content. </p>
<p><i>Take a leap</i>, he had asked her all those weeks ago. Well, here they both were, leaping hand in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you lift my heart up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).



> I love Matt and Allison, guys. And so does Jordan.
> 
> SO - for her birthday, I give you, Matt/Allison!!! and a new tag on AO3, because this is just how I roll.

*

“I was going to do it right,” Matt says in the balmy darkness, his arm secure around her waist. 

Looking away from the grassy knolls of the yard, the sheen of the ocean in the fall moonlight, Allison peers up at him. The front steps are solid beneath her, and he is solid next to her, and she can imagine it, the firm assurance of his touch and his love, night after night. The breeze cools her reddened cheeks; she can hear Josh and Taylor inside, laughing at something on the television. Stars blink down at her, at them both; her heart feels entirely too full and content. 

_Take a leap_ , he had asked her all those weeks ago. Well, here they both were, leaping hand in hand. 

“Do what right?” she asks, blinking. 

In the dim evening light, his eyes are as wild blue as the ocean, hair falling across his brow. His hand tightens on her hip. “This. Tonight. You know, with a ring.”

She blushes, shifts closer to him as she presses her face into his neck. “I don’t need that,” she murmurs, flexing her hand over his jean-clad knee. “All I need is this.”

His cheek drops to the top of her head, nestling there. Her fingertips find the inside seam of his jeans at his thigh and rub there, her lips touching the steady pulse in his throat. All she wants to do is stay put at his side and in the circle of his arms. She wants to lay down with him and soothe him to sleep, wrap him up in her arms and feel the tension leech from his muscles. There has been no one to take care of him, to watch him as he does everyone else. She wants to be that for him, for all of them. 

His free hand covers hers on his thigh. “You should stay tonight,” he murmurs, voice low against her hair. 

Shivering, she kisses the taut line of his throat. Their fingers twine. She thinks of the camellia on the kitchen table, of the solidity of his hand gripping hers. She’s crossed the country looking for roots that fit like this. A smart girl, she knows when something is right. 

“Okay,” she says. The kids won’t mind, not after her speech in the kitchen. She wants this. She wants him. She wants this inn and the family that comes with it. But most of all, she wants Matt. She wants his hands and his thoughtfulness and the smile that is almost lazy across his mouth but wholly serious in his eyes. 

Raising her head, she meets his gaze. He is watching her steadily, strangely; as if she will disappear. 

He’s had women disappear before. 

She squeezes his hand and tips her face up for a kiss. “I missed you,” she says, moved to bare honesty. “I missed you these past few days.”

His mouth is warm and firm against hers. He licks into her mouth and bites at her bottom lip, as if he wants to mark her as his own. She sighs against his lips, scratching her fingernails lightly over his knuckles. 

“Allison, I – “ He pauses, shakes his head. His lips are still very close to hers. 

Reaching up, she skates light fingertips over the shaven line of his jaw. “Take me to bed, sailor,” she whispers, skin hot with a flush. 

He smiles at her, kissing her again, slow and easy and like honey in the salt darkness enveloping them. “After I put Taylor to bed.”

“We can,” she offers before she can think about it. “I mean – “ she falters, biting the inside of her lip. “I can help. If you want.”

Blinking slowly, he leans his forehead against hers. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, with just the waves against the sand and the thump of her heart in her ears to distract her. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Taylor settles into her bedroom in the house with ease. The layers of clothing she wears to bed still concern Allison; it leads her down dark trails of thoughts that shudder through her. But she will not force it out of the girl, and Taylor trusts Matt and Allison, trusts them enough to curl a hand around Allison’s as Matt strokes her hair, asks her slow even questions about the scrapes on her knees. _They’ve handled it_ , Allison thinks, watching them from her perch on the side of the bed. Fezzik sits nearby and waits to take his place curled up with Taylor, the family guard dog. 

She ought to have a dog of her own, Allison thinks as Matt kisses Taylor’s forehead. She wonders whether Luke – the mysterious, absent, Marine Luke – would be open to it. 

It’s strange he isn’t here to think on it now, but Allison doesn’t know how to ask those questions. 

Josh is settled in the cottage out back, and Matt takes Allison to the pirate-themed room, the one she slept in with the light on, waiting for him. Waiting for him to come home and lay his head. When he shuts the door she nudges him back to the bed, makes him sit at the edge. It’s an echo of before; now, though, she knows she is essential, needed. She has a place at his side. 

That lazy smile curls his mouth. “C’mere,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly in the muted yellow lamplight. His hands settle on her hips. 

A frisson of pleasure skates over her skin. Swallowing hard, she sinks her fingers into his hair, dark and gleaming as oiled oak. The cotton of her skirt feels too warm against her thighs. “Let me – “ 

She pauses, feeling the flush rise on her cheeks. He watches her silently, that steady, even blue gaze. Her hands slide over his shoulders, over the taut fresh cotton of his button-down shirt. How could anyone leave him? He is so much – even-keeled and careful and wanting and smart and solid. Wetting her lips, she digs her fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulder blades. 

Stiffening for a split second, he releases a long breath. His hands tighten on her hips, the flesh there giving under his touch. Breathing quietly, he leans forward and rests his cheek against her breast, the rise and fall of her crisp blouse. Affection rises within her, unrelenting; she bows over him and rubs the heels of her hands into his back, standing between his spread thighs. Her hair falls across her shoulders and his, and she kisses his temple, the sea-and-sun-roughened skin there. God, how she loves him. 

“It’s okay to be tired,” she says into the thin skin near his ear. 

Something in him uncoils under her hands and lips. “Allison – “

“With me, everything is okay,” she says, kneading his shoulders. _I will be your rock, as you are everyone else’s_ , she thinks, but does not say. 

His arms go around her waist and pull her down onto his lap, her legs across his thighs. Her skirt rides up over her kneecaps, to mid-thigh, and his hand lands on bare warm skin, still tanned from summer. She slips her arms around his neck and meets his wide ocean gaze. 

“You’re not infallible, Matt,” she says, stroking her thumbs over the nape of his neck. 

He cracks a wry grin, ducking his head. “I knocked up a girl in college. You don’t have to tell me that,” he drawls. 

“You know what I mean,” she says, leaning up to kiss him softly. “I don’t need the front. Here, with me, you be whatever you need to be.”

His smile deepens, strengthens, as her lips touch his. His hand flattens on the small of her back as the other skims under her skirt, all smooth skin for his perusal. “You’re a good woman,” he murmurs. 

She flushes and all but crawls into him. “I have terrible habits you’ve yet to see,” she protests. 

He laughs, the tension leeching away from him. This, she can do. Outside of the serious issues surrounding the Fletchers, the problems yet to come – here, just between the two of them, she can be the stalwart one. He needs to rest sometime, and she will have it be with her. “Like what?”

As she talks, he shifts them back onto the bed, until he is stretched out flat and she is curled around him, half-on his chest, her leg slung across his hip and waist as he pushes her skirt higher up her thighs, until it is rucked up near to her hips. The sea-salt-wood-car oil smell of him fills her nose as she kisses the tanned line of his throat, the exposed hollows of his collarbones. 

“Well, you know I can’t cook.”

“I can help with that,” he murmurs into her hair, his thick warm fingers rubbing damp flesh through her panties. 

She stretches against him, pressing into the touch. A slow breath rushes out of her. “I like to hum along to the radio.”

“Well, that’s a step too far,” he chuckles, his thumb rubbing her clit. 

She tips her head up and finds his lips with hers, licking into his mouth and inhaling the taste of him. She pushes up on his chest and straddles him, leaning over his chest. He shudders and groans underneath her, his fingers stroking lazily between her thighs. 

“I like to read in bed. Sometimes I fall asleep with the lights on. And get ink on the sheets. And eat ice cream in the middle of the night. I talk to myself while I grade,” she says against his skin, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, dragging her fingertips through dark chest hair and over sun-weathered skin and bone. 

The hand not between her legs slips into her hair and twines there tightly, bringing her gaze to his. His eyes burn hot and blue in the lamplight, fiercely affectionate. 

“You’re here. I’m here. That’s all that matters to me,” he says, voice husky. “We’ll figure the rest out.”

She can’t help but beam at him, pushing the open panels of his shirt away from his chest. “I love you,” she murmurs, reveling in the freedom to say it at last. “I love you.”

His grip tightens on her hair. He drags her up for a kiss and she falls into it, his mouth a brand against her own. Her hands dig into the defined skin and muscle of his chest as his fingers push aside her panties and touch her skin to wet skin at last. Their kiss is a fierce thing, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, his tongue hot in her mouth. She sighs into him as his fingers stroke her, sink into her, curving inside of her in a long tease. He is so sure when he touches her, when he kisses her, as if he has known her forever, knows the very heart of her; as she feels he knows him. 

Rising up, she tugs her shirt over her head and tosses it aside, moves her fingers to the side zip of her skirt. 

“Wait – “ he breathes, low and guttural. “Jesus – “

She pauses, looking down at him. Her palms rest on his stomach, concave with need and held breaths. Need all but vibrates from his skin, his erection jutting against the zip of his jeans. Wetting her lips, she makes easy work of his belt buckle and zipper, sliding his jeans and boxers down as he raises his hips. 

“We’ve got all night, Matt,” she says with a slow smile. “Fast isn’t going to cramp my style.”

He lets out a long breath, thumb circling her clit. “It’s a school night, though.”

A laugh warms her chest, sighs through her. “You’re too cute,” she murmurs. 

He bites down on his bottom lip, cheeks flushed red. “I don’t – I don’t have a condom,” he says through his teeth. 

“Okay,” she says easily, unswayed. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

And she closes her hand around his erection, stroking firmly, remembering the warm feel of his hard weight against her skin. She drags her thumb over the wet head and he stiffens, a groan wrenched out of his throat. His fingers stroke at her wet sex and she leans over him to kiss and bite at the muscles of his chest, his neck, tasting the salt-sun off of him. His wide hand cups her breast through her bra and she shudders, her hips rocking against his palm, the friction of her skirt and her hand over his erection shuddering through him as she licks at his pulse. 

He comes first, a ragged low moan drawn from his lips, the sticky feel of him over her fingers and skirt. His thumb presses in at her clit and she cries out against his neck, coming in a slow steady wave. He is a solid weight under her, supporting her even as she goes boneless with pleasure. Slowly, they clean up and strip fully, and he searches around the room naked for condoms, which makes her laugh. 

It’s late, and she is weary but happy when he finally turns off the lamp and curls up with her under the blankets, his chest pressed to her back and his arm settled across her belly. He kisses her neck and she sighs, shivers and shifts back into him more tightly. 

“I wanted to do this the first night,” he says quietly into her hair, voice low and sweet. “I wanted to stay, and hold you, and wake up next to you.”

She twines her fingers into his as they lay over her skin. “You can do that now,” she murmurs sleepily, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “And every night for the rest of our lives.”

His hold tightens on her. “I love you,” he says hoarsely, and she smiles into the beach darkness, content. 

*

Six in the morning comes too soon. Allison blinks awake in the blue-yellow light, eyes gritty with sleep. Matt stirs next to her, his arm heavy around her middle, his cheek at her hair. She shivers at the shift of the blankets, the touch of cool fall air against her bare skin. 

When she goes to slink of bed, his hold tightens, pulling her back against his chest. 

“I’m not a late sleeper,” he murmurs, his mouth near her ear, the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Me neither,” she says, voice still thick with sleep. Her fingers stroke up and down his arm. 

“You make me want to change that,” he rumbles low in his chest. 

Blushing pink, she turns in his hold, settling onto her back to face him as he stretches out next to her. “Maybe one Sunday,” she says softly, reaching up to brush the dark hair from his eyes. “It could be fun.”

The slight smile on his lips shifts and deepens. He settles over her, his naked body warm and solid against hers. She shifts her thighs apart, hitches her knee up, as her hands stroke over his chest, his shoulders. He is beautiful and unflinchingly real in the dawn light, a sight she wants to treasure. 

“Too much to do now, I guess,” he says quietly, lowering his mouth to kiss her cheek, the line of her jaw. 

Shivering, she tucks herself into his broad chest. She is not a delicate woman, but he makes her feel safe, sheltered. Like she is not a woman alone, searching for roots. Her hands flatten on his stomach, testing the muscle there. “We’ll make lists tonight,” she says, tilting her head as his lips travel down her throat. She digs her fingers into his abdomen and he shudders. “We can handle it, Matt. No matter what.”

He looks down at her, the sleep fading from his blue gaze. Stroking a hand over her mussed hair, he leans in and kisses her softly on the mouth, eyes open. “Your problems are mine too,” he says quietly. “Don’t – don’t not tell me things, just because you think there’s too much going on.”

She blinks up at him, startled. “Matt – “

“Your life is important too. Your work is important. Yeah, I need you – but you need me too,” he says, a moment of naked honesty that cuts her to the quick. She thinks of how much he is needed, by so many people; to be in that company in a happy thought. 

“Partners,” she says softly, stroking her way down his ribs. 

He drops down lower onto her, his thigh between hers. “Partners,” he echoes before kissing her, his mouth a promise on hers. There is no ring on her finger, but she has his word and his love and his trust. It is more than enough. 

When they finally stumble out of bed, he brews coffee while she makes lunches for Josh and Taylor. He sends her to her rented cottage to change for school with a kiss and a promise to come for her tonight. 

The sun across the ocean horizon is the same as yesterday, but Allison feels brand new, reformed. 

*


End file.
